


In a Sweater Poorly Knit

by orphan_account



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birthday, Drinking, M/M, Mild Smut, POV Third Person Limited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Though he had lived in this certain cul-de-sac in Maple Bay for too many years to count, and though he knew too many things about the residents around him, Robert never really felt as if he possessed a connection to anybody.That was why, with every single passing year, most of his neighbours tended to forget his birthday. At least, that's what he assumed.





	In a Sweater Poorly Knit

**Author's Note:**

> i apologise in advance for:  
> -using words like gentrification. (it means making someone more polite).   
> -ACCIDENTALLY using any northern english slang, i tried to avoid it but sometimes it slips by me.   
> -long, convoluted, comma-ridden sentences, not full stop in sight because i dont know how 2 chill.  
> -if anything is cliche. especially the angst. i tried realllly hard to avoid it but since this isnt an au i was doomed to.

*

 

Though he had lived in this certain cul-de-sac in Maple Bay for too many years to count, and though he knew too many things about the residents around him, Robert never really felt as if he possessed a connection to anybody.

 

Sure, it was pleasant enough to have Mary as an occasional drinking buddy, and Mat would always give him discounts every time he went to the Coffee Spoon. Hell, one time Brian fixed his porch with no charge. These were all just acts of kindness though, or maybe even pity. That,  _ that's  _ what he couldn't stand. 

 

Dozens upon dozens of acts without reason apart from some inspiration porn. Some look-at-what-a-Messiah-I-am conduct. Some, dare Robert say it, complete and utter bullshit. Paying attention to just themselves performing a great Samaritan act. Helping Robert. Poor Robert. They only cared about themselves.

 

That was why, with every single passing year, most people tended to forget his birthday. 

 

Or, he didn't know. Maybe he had never mentioned it before. Did it count as his fault if nobody even cared to ask? 

 

No, actually, no, not everybody forgot his birthday. This year he was expectant of Val to call and tell him about her girlfriend or accomplishments or just anything. What Robert would give for a visit, but he knew that his daughter was a busy, successful woman, and couldn't put that pressure on her. He didn't exactly deserve it, anyway, if the many times he forgot Val's birthday counted. 

 

He... he had gotten better at that, he hoped. At least they talked now. They talked enough that Robert knew about her latest magazine edition. They talked enough that he knew about her somewhat serious relationship. They talked enough that Val should know that his birthday was in exactly five days.

 

After all, it didn't even matter, because he had been alone on his birthday so many countless times, his daughter calling was enough. It had to be.

 

*

 

Grocery shopping was not something Robert particularly enjoyed. In fact, he tried to avoid it as much as possible, but there was a time in a man's life where he just couldn't live on cup noodles anymore. 

 

Consequently, the next day Robert actually had to roll out of bed and load up on cologne to be just under presentable.

 

With a basket full of just different flavours of pizza rolls, mini frozen pizzas, microwavable burritos and the such, one could witness a strong lack in anything which actually required any effort to make. For this reason, and this reason  _ only _ , Robert found himself in the pastry isle, eyes searching for the Pillsbury Doughboy. Everyone had to treat themselves to an unhealthy snack once in awhile. Or, in Robert's case, quite a few times in a while. An unhealthy amount of unhealthy times.

 

Either way, Robert still reached out his hand to grab a box of mini croissants, only to be met with another hand, reaching for the same box.

 

And, fine, maybe it was his own fault for choosing to live in such a small town, but he was greeted with the face of nobody but his cheery blonde neighbour. Fittingly, he was smiling widely. Robert wondered if his dental insurance cost a lot. If there were an award for showing the most teeth, Joseph would definitely win it.

 

The aforementioned man chuckled softly. "Oh, Robert. How surprising! I don't think I've ever seen you shopping here before." 

 

Robert now grinned small at him out of politeness, though raising an eyebrow. He then turned his head back to shelf to grab the tub of croissant paste. He came here for a reason, after all.

 

"Did you think I lived strictly off whiskey, Joe?" Robert muttered, examining the tub closely in order to avoid Joseph's gaze.

 

At this, Joseph gasped slightly before laughing, as if that were funny. Robert wondered what it was like, living such a fake life. If it was like anything that Mary told him...

 

"No, of course not!" Joseph exclaimed, peeking into Robert's basket, guiding his eyes back to Robert's face after a couple of seconds. "I do see, however, you strictly live your life off of junk foods." The man scowled. 

 

Robert didn't exactly take offense to this, considering how many things he would say to Joseph unrelated to foods. "We all have vices," he explained with a shrug. "Mine happen to be mini croissants and blueberry pies."

 

And drinking too much, and swearing far too much, and having no ambition to change. But those were all just little  _ quirks  _ about him. Personality traits. Something of that kind. He then thought of what Joseph's vices would be. Perhaps that part about being a real Casanova even when he doesn't mean it. And surely his God looked down on men who urged for other men rather than their own wives.

 

Robert and Mary's conversations got pretty deep after a few shots. He knew far too much about his neighbours, and Joseph was no exception. Far from it. 

 

"Blueberries are pretty healthy, I don't think it counts as a vice," Joseph thought for a moment, eyes trailing off to the ceiling. He then snapped back to Robert. "Hey, speaking of pie, the church is hosting a fundraiser Friday! Why don't you swing on by?"

 

Raising a quizzical eyebrow yet again, Robert had to shake his head and turn around. "Sorry, pastor boy, no can do," he replied quickly. He heard Joseph trail behind him slowly. 

 

"Again? And what are you so busy with that you can't cancel in order to help out your local church?"

 

At this, Robert grimaced. He supposed that he  _ could  _ go, possibly, if he was a decent person, but he wasn't sure when Val was going to call, plus, he was set on convincing Neil to give him free drinks. After all, what was he turning, forty... forty something? A difficult age to cope with that would call for many, many drinks. He sighed loudly.

 

"It's," he hesitated, not wanting to burden Joseph with the details. No more pity parties were needed. "It's my birthday." He gave a sideways shrug, eyeing the rest of the pastries. He could always pick up one of those odd birthday cakes they made in store. Or was that too much?

 

"I'm going to spend it in Jim and Kim's by myself."

 

"Well, that's no fun. If you want, Mary and I could always gather everyone on the cul-de-sac to - " Joseph started. Robert grit his teeth, getting more annoyed by the second.

 

"Don't even start," he muttered under his breath.

 

"Let us help you, Rob -"

 

He shook his head slowly from side to side in heavy defiance. "No. Stop fucking pitying me, Christiansen."

 

Joseph faded away into the distance behind Robert, who didn't bother looking back. The idea of  _ more  _ people pitying him, hell no. 

 

He remembered those countless times of talking to Mary while they were both shitfaced. And then that once. It was a more somber night than what they usually had - there was more of a melancholy ambiance. Rather than their regular whiskey, straight up, Mary had actually ordered a vodka. Though Robert cheekily commented on this, he had realised that something was definitely off. Then came Mary muttering about how her husband doesn't really love her, hasn't for ten odd years, they decided to stay together for the kids, whatever old wino mother talk. It really was habitual to someone like Mary. For someone like Robert, who lost his own wife too long ago, and his daughter just the same, nothing in comparison. He made sure to tell Mary, hey, at least she still had her kids. At least they didn't hate her for a large portion of their life. At least Joseph pretended like he loved her.

 

It's because of how he was raised, Mary had informed him when he mentioned this fact. Strict parents. Old times. The like, she said, poor guy doesn't know any different than how he's been raised. He lies to himself, she said. He pretends so much.

 

Then, Mary said, he pretended far too much for too much of his life. He only married her to straighten up, she laughed, literally, she explained, she said, he's gay, he's a  _ faggot _ , no offense, of course, Rob, but my husband likes men. She said, she knows that she still loves him, and honestly, no matter what, she just wants to be happy. And. And she thinks she might finally be done. Glancing Robert up and down, Mary shook her head slowly and left the bar. 

 

Her emotions were too precarious for Robert to try and fix, so he didn't. He did, however, pay for her tab. 

 

As he was leaving the bar himself, Robert had to scoff. Here Mary was, complaining about her seemingly perfect imperfect husband, when she herself was more than a little promiscuous. Not to mention, she drank almost as much as Robert did, if not more. At least he had the decency not drink in the daytime. She complained about Joseph lying to himself, but what was she doing? Perhaps they really were perfect for each other in that way.

 

Apart from, Mary not being a man. Apart from, Joseph not really loving Mary.

 

If you can fool everyone else, you can fool yourself. But Robert wasn't exactly fooled by either of them.

 

* 

 

Though Robert wasn't so great at taking care of himself, he really loved his dog. He took better care of her than he did his own daughter. He would buy only the highest-brand dog food, the most vicious-looking leash, because, hello, she was a badass, stuff like that. Another responsibility he took seriously was taking her to the park around the corner twice a day. She especially loved the parts densely covered in trees, which is why the trips there mostly ended up in the woods.

 

Also, Robert kind of liked the ambiance despite all the insects. To be at one with nature is to be at one with yourself, he thought, as he held tightly onto the leash. He couldn't quite put his finger on where he got that quote from, but he knew he should punch whoever said it.  No way in hell anybody could connect with piles of mud or moldy bark. Definitely not an old log with his young pink-cladded neighbour sitting on top of it morosely. 

 

Huh. 

 

Joseph's hands were clasped together, and while his facial expression rather matched the darker atmosphere. The trees were so packed together almost no light could get in into the small clearance, save for scarce traces of light over the fluorescent-clothed man. It was as if he wasn't himself, thought Robert, watching from the side as Betsy sniffed a daisy. Not seeing him with a smile on his face just felt wrong, like if the world were unbalanced. Seeing him like this, emotionally vulnerable. Now Robert felt kind of bad. 

 

But, he knew too much already. He tried to slowly step backwards, however, his plan of backing away was unfortunately spoiled by Betsy running up to human. His fault for getting a dog so friendly, he figured. Karma. Whatever.

 

And so Betsy pounced on Joseph, licking his hands and wagging her tail furiously. Robert was consequentially pulled forward. Even if she was just a tiny French Bulldog, she was strong as hell. The other man greeted her by rubbing the back of her head, eyes still red, but now grinning. Well, at least that. Robert really couldn't stand people who showed deep emotions around him. It made him feel... well, he didn't know.

 

Apart from rustling in bushes, bird's songs, and Betsy panting, it was silent. Robert took down a seat on the log, just a little away from Joseph.

 

It was all good and silent until Joseph hesitantly opened his mouth. He was repeatedly opening and closing it, until he finally spoke, throat obviously dry. "I think," he started, "I think that I should apologise for yesterday."

 

Robert moved his eyes from Betsy to Joseph. His face now held a scowl again, looking more and more hesitant by the moment. 

 

He realised, now, how serious this all was. He'd never seen  _ Brian  _ quietly sulk in a small clearing in the local woods of Maple Bay. But then again, he might prefer doing it on a boat. He'd never seen Damien - well, he's seen Damien sulking, however none of those times was he actually upset. Or, he didn't think. Hell, the only times he'd seen Mary upset is during the beginning of a bar hopping trip, but after a few shots, she was fine again. Sulking in the woods was creepy, and Robert listened to horror story podcasts for fun. It didn't seem like the thing that youth ministers did. This wasn't just a case of a bake sale not collecting enough funds or him losing his favourite boat memorabilia. He realised, now, there must be something incredibly heavy on Joseph's mind. 

 

Whatever it was, he made no more effort of a soliloquy. This was fine. Robert felt no need to listen to someone pour their heart out. 

 

Betsy prodded at Robert's leg, jumping up on his lap a few moments later. He slowly stroked her head, listening to the sounds all around him. So he couldn't  _ connect  _ to nature, but he could still appreciate it. There was an array of green scattered at the two men’s feet, it being nearly summer. 

 

He closed his eyes, breathing in the chilly breeze. He wasn’t so sure about what they were doing, but it felt right. It felt peaceful and somber. A little surreal, maybe. It felt even more so when Robert gazed to his right, finding that Joseph was staring right back. The way the light caught his face was kind of  _ something _ . Robert never usually noticed things like that, but the sunshine… really accentuated his strong features. 

 

Maybe he should stop watching reruns of America’s Next Top Model, otherwise complimenting his friend’s husband would become a normal thing. Which it wasn’t. That said, he didn’t look away yet.

 

In all honesty, it was a little creepy, Joseph staring. Maybe that’s where his kids got it from - the combination of the way Mary spoke along with Joseph’s general creepiness. Not to bag his kids, though, his daughter was pretty scary, too, but Robert knew she had her reasons. Just look at her dad.

 

His thoughts moved away from his daughter when he finally noticed Joseph staring at Robert’s lips. In a rapid, frantic movement, Joseph sloppily bent forward to nearly reach his face. Before an essentially fatal collision of their lips occurred, Robert stood up. Betsy whimpered due to the fact her sleeping place was now gone. No. He did the smart thing. Probably the right thing. He huffed loudly, eyebrows furrowed. Mary was his  _ friend _ , God, he thought, reminding himself of what he wanted to say.

 

“Don’t,” he breathed out, holding tightly onto Betsy’s leash. “Don’t bring me into this before you fix your life.”

 

Joseph’s eyes were wide, eyebrows raised. His hands gripped the bark of the fallen tree, obviously worried. His fault. Robert stood tall for a brief second, studying the other man’s face before turning around, having to pull Betsy in order for her to follow. He couldn’t bring himself to look back. Joseph didn’t deserve that, not yet, anyway.

 

And with another whimper from Betsy, they were gone. 

 

*

 

The next day was extremely contemplative. It wasn’t as if being nearly kissed by your friend’s-husband-who-was-also-you-neighbour was common for Robert. Kissing, yeah sure. He did that a lot. A lot a lot. But those weren’t real  _ people  _ that he kept having to see around the town. Then again, it wasn’t his fault. 

 

He characteristically decided to contemplate and brood at Jim and Kim’s rather than his own home. It would be a bit depressing if he were just thinking about the same moment again and again in private.

 

With this thought in mind, he slipped on his leather jacket and made sure to unlock the dog door for Betsy. He always felt a little bit guilty when he left her alone, especially to go drink, but he assumed she was used to it. He hoped.

 

When he arrived, he was greeted with faint familiar music that Neil always played. Some odd jazz piece mixed with… hell if he knew. Neil probably didn’t know either. If he brought one of his music-loving neighbours here, they’d know.

 

Whatever the music was, his mind was too busy thinking about the previous day.

 

He took a seat at the bar, slouched and scruffy as always. Neil noticed him after he poured a drink to another customer, walking right over with a glass of whiskey. Maybe he noticed the way in which Robert’s shoulders slung forward or the way he held a perfect scowl. He said nothing when the man placed down his glass.

 

“Good day?” Neil asked in a quiet but playful tone of voice. They knew each other since Robert moved into the neighbourhood. Neil could probably guess his mood was even more negative than usual.

 

Robert took the shot straight away, gulping down, used to the burn by now. Looking up at Neil, he coughed, “If I wanted a course on gentrification I’d have gone to a church… thing…”

 

One shot in and he was already forgetting simple words. Perfect.

 

“Sermon,” remarked Neil slowly, wiping down the counter. “How is it you remember a word like gentrification but forget the word for sermon?”

 

Robert shrugged, unwilling to answer. Another shot was placed in front of him, though he decided to take it slow. He needed at least  _ some  _ brainpower in order to figure out what to do next. Not that yesterday was his fault, in any way. Sure, he decided to sit down next to Joseph when he was alone and emotionally vulnerable, but in no way was he the one to make the move. He took another shot.

 

Maybe… maybe he would have. Maybe he would have had if Joseph wasn’t married with four children. Maybe if he wasn’t so set on being the good Christian husband with the perfect Christian family all of the time. Mary was over it for sure, considering that one night when she voiced her opinions in front of Robert. To him, he wasn’t sure. Neil brought him another round of shots. He downed one with pleasure.

 

Was that moral, that he would have allowed himself Joseph? Oh, hell, the last time Robert cared about his moral compass was maybe a few months ago. Give or take twenty years. Another shot.

 

He didn’t have many friends, but he did have Mary occasionally. She didn’t bullshit him. In many ways, he actually cared about her feelings. Even if he thought the situation between her and Joseph was stupid, that didn’t mean he could just pile onto the shitstorm. That would be too unfair. She was more or less there for him when he needed.

 

Shot.

 

Speak of the devil.

 

He turned his head enough to see her morose expression. Her makeup was smeared and this time she was sitting a stool away from him. He wasn’t an idiot. He could guess what happened. Because of this, Robert chose not to talk but to instead gaze up at the television and take occasional sips of whiskey. 

 

What he had to remind himself of was that none of this was his fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet. Nothing wrong. Not his fault.

 

“I thought moving into the suburbs would prevent shit like this from happening,” Mary said, sorrowful. Robert turned his head an inch to peek at her saddened face. It looked more tired than ever. She took a shot, eyes downcast at nothing particular. “But, Rob, I have to forgive us.  _ We  _ did  _ nothing  _ wrong.”

 

Her hands gestured between the two of them. Robert raised an eyebrow. He idly wondered if she was already drunk before coming here. Even if she was coherent…

 

“We both know it’s his fault, right?” she dragged out, shaking her head slowly. She raised a finger, a  _ wait  _ motion, as she took a long sip of her drink. “Yeah,” she exhaled loudly. “We know.”

 

Robert let her continue, not wanting to interrupt a progressing soliloquy. 

 

“Forgive as the Lord forgave us. Isn’t that funny?” She wasn’t smiling, just staring. It was beginning to get a little bit heated, and while Robert  _ liked  _ Mary and respected her, he had to kind of side with Joseph. Although he couldn’t agree with cheating on his wife, if he really  _ was  _ gay, then. Then he could do as he wished.

 

“I just can’t forgive him,” Mary continued, tapping on the glass in front of her. She coldly looked up at him. “I’m right, aren’t I?” This was less of a question. It was an expectant tone, like Robert had to agree. He stayed silent, breaking the gaze.

 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You really have a way with words. Do you think I’m in the wrong here, then?”

 

Robert kept looking away, but he knew she was leaning in. He knew she was angry. He understood, but that didn’t mean that he was going to agree with her. He felt sorry for her, he felt sorry for Joseph, their kids, whatever. 

 

“You’re just like everyone else here,” she muttered after a few seconds, standing up, getting her bag, and leaving. For once, Robert watched her leave. She, however, didn’t look back. She was probably going to come around.

 

Robert wasn’t bothered. He took a shot, tipping his head back, working with the dull burn in his throat. 

 

He decided, to avoid more cases like this one, he should probably isolate himself. He could live as a hermit in the middle of nowhere, just him and Betsy in a snowy fortress. Solitude always prevented these things. 

 

Instead of that extremity, however, he thought to just avoid the Christiansens for the time being. Maybe for the rest of his life, if he were so lucky.

 

*

 

The day before his birthday, Robert woke up with a hangover, as planned. 

 

Though he outgrew hangovers, when there was a particularly stressful time in his life, he just couldn’t get out of bed. Well. Not that he got out of bed much, anyway.

 

He nudged Betsy with his foot, the bulldog whimpering softly, silently asking for more sleep. Fair enough. He rubbed his eyes before staring straight up at the ceiling fan. Though he should’ve probably felt at least a little bit bad, he couldn’t help but grin in thought of Val calling him. They really didn’t get to talk as much as he wished, and he understood, but tomorrow was a special day, and he  _ knew  _ she would call him. He could even get the guts to invite her over for a meal or a drink. Or, whatever she liked. 

 

Getting out of bed to brush his teeth, he surprised himself by recalling what Mary told him yesterday. Just like everyone else, really? He was definitely more down to Earth than anyone else. He accepted the truth. 

 

She should learn how to do that. Her husband definitely hit on him, and probably before that as well. How many bake sales did he need to be invited to for her to realise that? Nobody else had to be invited. They went by themselves, because they really liked diabetes.

 

When they sold blueberry pies,  _ then  _ ask Robert. 

 

Either way, they were unhappy. End of story. The only way left for them was down. And he was okay with that, because for Joseph it would be up. Or something. Man, his head hurt. 

 

He idly scanned his bathroom cabinet for Advil, fishing one from the very back. It had been  _ that  _ long since he’s had a hangover, huh? To be fair on him, it’d been a pretty terrible week. Eventful, yes, for once, but overall horrible.

 

And he had… mostly nothing to do with it. Robert frowned at his own reflection after closing the cabinet.

 

He was good looking enough. A little scruffy, yes. Salt and pepper hair. But. He’d understand why Joseph would like him. And since Joseph wasn’t so terrible looking himself, well. It was bound to happen, wasn’t it? Even if he had his moral compass, he couldn’t deny that Mary chose a good-looking husband. A gay one, sure, but good-looking nonetheless.

 

He ran a hand through his hair, and left those thoughts there, continuing with his day.

 

*

 

His birthday. Robert jolted awake.

 

Robert couldn’t  _ really  _ recall when he went to sleep, but after a season of Finding Bigfoot, it was already in the early AMs. So technically it was his birthday then, but it was too early to go to Jim and Kim’s. So he went to sleep.

 

He wasn’t even sure what woke him up. He looked outside his window, rain pouring down. Betsy was still lying comfortably at the end of the bed. 

 

What in the  _ hell  _ woke him up?

 

Stretching his arms above his head, Robert heard three sudden thuds. He was fairly sure that his arms couldn’t have made that noise. Right, front door.

 

He groaned as he stood up, the five-ish steps too much for his obviously aging body. Maybe it was Val. Maybe she decided to surprise him. After all, they’d been… yeah. Otherwise, who would it be? Mary was probably the only person who knew about today, and he doubted that  _ she’d  _ come visit him.

 

When he opened the door, he was greeted with none other than a slightly damp Joseph Christiansen. Robert’s face held a small scowl as he crossed his arms. Joseph’s hands held a pleasant-looking tin, though the rest of him looked… well, dilapidated at best. Robert wondered for a moment why he still had that stupid blue jumper tied around his neck rather than just using it to protect himself from the damn rain.

 

Funny it would rain on Robert’s birthday, even if it were nearly summer. That was proper characterisation, that.

 

Joseph smiled, mouth wide, holding up the pie tin. “Blueberry. A peace offering. Can I come in?” he asked, and Robert almost wanted to say no. But, damn, he looked so fucking. God. He looked  _ sad _ , and that was so stupid of him, to look sad. He looked like a stray dog (not that he would ever be as cute as Betsy, of course), eyes and smile droopy. He essentially hypnotised Robert into moving out of the way to let him in.

 

Shutting the door behind his unexpected guest, Robert sighed softly. 

 

The other man looked around, unsure, at the mess around him. Robert knew his house was much neater, even though their house had a lot more residents. Robert didn’t mind, and, excluding the minister who just entered, he didn’t have many guests over. 

 

Joseph set the pie tin on a counter, taking off his sweater slowly, holding it in his arms. He didn’t yet look at Robert, who stood arms crossed by the door.

 

“I think the Good Lord is trying to say something. It started pouring down as soon as I left my house,” he chuckled awkwardly, finally turning to look at him. Robert didn’t smile. “Anyway,” he mumbled. He picked at one of the loose threads in the blue jumper, clearing his throat.

 

Robert waited.

 

“I know that… you talked to Mary yesterday, and, well…,” he looked up at the ceiling. It seemed like it was hard for him to breathe. Maybe. He looked back at Robert, who now raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t want to ruin your birthday. I baked you a pie.”

 

Robert nodded, slowly walking towards the counter, examining it. Yes, well, if Joseph was anything, it was a complete cunt, but otherwise, a good baker. After so many bake sales, well. You’d learn.

 

He quickly moved to get two plates out of the sink after briefly wiping them off along with two forks. He sat down in the bar stool, motioning for the other man to join as he cut up two slices. Joseph sat down next to him, just  _ inches  _ away, really. Robert could guessed how last night went for him and Mary.

 

After a bite, Robert finally spoke. It was really good blueberry pie, better than the one sitting in the cabinet above his fridge, still in its packaging. “I’m guessing you’re planning to take over this neighbourhood by fattening us all up.” 

 

Joseph laughed softly, slouching just a touch. It didn’t seem very genuine.  He fingered the jumper nervously. “Not really,” he said, softly, grinning lopsidedly at Robert.

 

Fuck off. He had no business doing that.

 

After a few more bites and moments, Robert decided that this definitely wasn’t the side of Joseph Christiansen he let everyone see. He seemed a little innocent, yes, in a way, but in a broken way. 

 

“Have you ever noticed your name is Joseph Christiansen?” asked Robert, decidedly pushing Joseph as much as he could with stupid questions. At one point he’d break and talk about Mary, anyway. He’d have to.

 

A few more moments passed with Joseph shrugging small. Damn, he really wasn’t paying attention, was he? Robert set his fork down, holding his head in his hand, arm leant on the counter. Joseph just stared at the messy floor.

 

“Mary… um,” he started, taking in a large breath. “She left. In the morning. I don’t know where she… uh. I just hope,” he sighed, frowning. There it was. The crack in the entire façade. It was there, and Robert just had to listen, even though he already knew it was going to happen. “I just hope she’s fine. I know she said some things, and  _ I  _ said some things but I just.”

 

“I think she’s gonna be happy,” replied Robert without thinking. He had no doubts that she loved Joseph and her kids, but from the many talks in the early mornings, he knew what she needed better. And he could guess the minister, the same.

 

Joseph actually smiled this time, a small smile, not a fake one. To show gratitude. Robert noticed how his eyes lagged slightly. It was human, and it was real. The wrinkles just under them. When he was up here and close, he looked a lot less perfect. 

 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, patting his hands on his stupid perfect khaki trousers, “I’m sorry that the pie was the only thing I brought. I was a little busy this week,” he raised his eyebrows in a sad manner, “So I didn’t get the chance to buy a gift. And before you say anything, it doesn't count as pity if it's your birthday.”

 

It didn't count as pity if it were his birthday.

 

Robert listened. Understandable. Then again.

 

“The hell are you talking about? I don’t even know how  _ old  _ you are,” Robert squinted, getting up and heading to the tray where he kept all of his best whiskey. Which was all whiskey. “Fancy a drink?”

 

Joseph looked hesitant. “I guess, if it’s for a celebration,” he followed Robert slowly, just a few inches away next to him while he prepared the drinks. He leaned on the tray, making it wobble furiously. He winced and decided to just stand up straight. He cleared his throat once more. “How old are  _ you _ ?”

 

Robert hummed softly, pretending to think as he held the two glasses of whiskey. “It’s rude to ask a lady her age,” he joked, handing the glass to the other man and toasting. After the sip, he actually answered, “Forty-three.”

 

“Well,” Joseph mumbled lowly. “You don’t look it,” he smirked, setting his drink down and crossing his arms, carefully leaning against the tray. Robert rolled his eyes.

 

“Stop being  _ cute _ ,” he shook his head. He knew he looked his age, maybe older, and he knew what Joseph was trying to do. With Mary being gone, well. Might as well play along. It  _ was  _ his birthday, after all.

 

He took a large gulp of the whiskey and set it down next to Joseph’s arm, getting entirely too close. And damn Joseph for smirking as Robert set his hands next to the other man’s, pushing him up against the unsteady table anyway.

 

“I was born like this,” he said softly, not entirely meaningful.

 

Joseph’s eyes moved back and forth from Robert’s left to right eye, obviously thinking about this whole situation. He gulped

 

Come on, Joe, Mary didn’t leave for you not to put out.

 

The blonde man raised his hands up Robert’s chest in the miniscule space separating them, obviously fine with it as he leaned in fully, pressing his lips to Robert’s own. This time Robert didn’t move away, just closed his eyes and pushed forward for more intensity. 

 

If it was ever to happen, well. Now was the time.

 

Good thing Robert was too lazy to change, already in just a wife beater and boxers. Joseph’s clothes were the problem, he examined as he undid the buttons on his stupid shirt. 

 

As Robert grinded against the minister quickly, Joseph released a gasp. 

 

The tray behind them fell over, wobbly as it were. Collateral damage. Betsy jumped off of the bed, startled.

 

“Fuck,” Robert mumbled, rubbing his forehead. Joseph took a look at the damage, then looked back at the other man in a few seconds, pulling on his arm to lead him to the bed with a mischievous smile on his stupid perfect face. Robert liked where this was going, more specifically, he liked the fact that Joseph was taking off his pants.

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, and Robert smiled.

 

*

 

He was woken up by his phone vibrating at his side at around one in the morning. It was from Val, apologising for not being able to call, but happy birthday anyway, big guy.

 

Joseph tightened his grip around Robert as he put his phone away in exchange for sleep.

 

So what if his neighbours forgot his birthday?

 

After all, it didn't even matter, because he had been alone on his birthday so many countless times. But at least for now he had his daughter, and someone who actually remembered, not out of pity, but care.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from mewithoutYou. 
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked it or didn't like it and want to tell me to improve. or just bag on my writing if you wish. thanks!


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